


A Tribute for Thor

by Fishstick



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: M/M, Pre-Canon, Prequel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-31
Updated: 2019-05-31
Packaged: 2020-03-30 22:11:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19036609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fishstick/pseuds/Fishstick
Summary: Owing to some mead and bad directions, Thor finds himself in bed with Loki. Technically some non-con happening at the beginning, but it resolves. ;)





	A Tribute for Thor

The wind ripped its way across the battlefield, lifting the settled snow in gusts. Drifts gathered at the eastern side of the corpses that still littered it, obscuring their unearthly forms. These giants, who had come from the earth, returned to it on their own, already beginning to turn into soil and moss. Before long, they would only be remembered as hills. The dead humans, on the other hand, were already being celebrated for their journey to the halls of Valhalla. Though the mortals could not see the Valkyrie plucking their spirits from the field, Thor could.

“All who fight with me in glorious battle, I shall see again!” Thor roared with a fist wrapped around the wooden handle of a carved mug. His gauntlets glinted in the light of the fires of the great hall and the mighty Mjolnir sat motionless nearby. Mortal men and women roared in response, their voices a hearty choir of triumph. The godling basked in the pats on the bicep, the clasps of arms, the warrior women who bared their teeth with familiarity of spirit, and those women who bore towards him, instead, the desires of youth.

The Asgardian prince let himself fall into the cacophony of merriment, stretched out at the end of a long table, full of meat, mead, and squash. The party wove around him like a tapestry, from the tales of the bard, a venerated man in this village with one foggy eye, to the musicians that prompted dancing so full of fervor that it took out one of the tables. Thor, Thor, Thor, the villagers praised, while others of Asgard, his entourage, found slightly less acclaim. Of the warriors three, only Fandral remained at the party, his smooth words at odds with the clumsy diction of the drunker mortals. But he, too, was in his cups and he still had not found the right one of these grateful subjects to encourage upon Thor. 

If Thor had not made SO MANY poor choices in this regard in the past, like other people’s wives, or virginal daughters, he wouldn’t have this job now. Its not that this was part of the deal, but it was somewhat expected that hosting the young, powerful prince might eventually lead to the kind favor of a willing lady, or more rarely, the grateful attention of a fair-faced man. These days, Fandral just picked FOR Thor…so he wouldn’t end up in the predicament of bedding a witch, like fifty years ago.

Finally, he saw someone that seemed to suit his mood tonight…someone worth a round of rough play, someone who could take ‘drunk Thor’ for a fantastic round or two. He sidled up to a warrior fellow with red, braided hair and dots of freckles across his nose and cheeks. A little chat, fingers pointing towards Thor, then outside, gave way to the agreement sealed. The man left, taking along his drum and beater. 

Thor and Fandral held most of the crowd’s attention, but some odd few recognized another hero in their midst. Those to whom shadows appeal found their own darker champion, the sorcerous Prince Loki. With raven hair and gold-burnished armor, he cut an effortlessly sly figure, mirthful without being indulgent, never beyond control. He meandered the edges of the party, engaging in strategic conversation to find out what strange monsters and witches the people claimed to know, or where rumored treasure slept with its guard. 

Loki fiddled with a small bone charm in one hand and ran his thumb over three runes carved into its surface. The simple design gave no hint as to its power, but he could feel it plainly enough. This charm had a luck magic, a potent influencer of fate. He robbed it last week from a dwarven cache that the locals knew of. He smiled faintly, then headed out of the party before he had to endure another retelling of their exploits that day, moving through the similar wooden houses until he came to his for the night. 

The wood house sturdily stood on the packed earth, abandoned by its tenants, though they remained in spirit through their belongings. Loki could tell that the people living here were a couple, blessed with a child of middling age. Little shrine figurines, three summer jerkins, and various other bits of pottery, extra shoes, and blankets. Loki stripped out of his armor and his pale skin made a rare appearance, briefly, before tucking in under furs. He might never admit his affinity for the cold weather, but how he slept in the privacy of the guest house was his own business.

The moon rose in the winter sky, a sliver of light in the sky that cast no shadows, as Thor finally managed to stagger from the longhouse and out into the dark. Fandral was a few steps ahead of him, and he lurched forwards and put his meaty hand on the man’s shoulder. “Which one is the one I go to?” He grinned, broadly, sloppily, and his eyes twinkled with further description of his meaning. 

Fandral looked out among the sea of similarly built wooden houses and finally pointed with one gloved hand, then curled his cloak about him tighter. “Have fun, my friend,” he wished to Thor, cheerful as ever as he waved and headed to his own lodging, where he also had someone waiting.

Thor opened the door with a clunk and shut it the same. He accidentally kicked over a stool on his way towards the bedroom, owing to the near-total darkness in the home. As his eyes adjusted though, he could see the bed, and the form under the furs, particularly when it stirred a bit. Thor laughed softly, eyes sparkling again with the joy of living this life. The Prince dropped his clothing and armor by bits, leaving a messy trail all the way to the bed, then naked, flipped up the fur blanket and slipped in next to the pale form laying there on his side. 

Thor slid his hand along the man’s hip, following the curve of his side. Instantly, the man started, and an elbow came flying backwards. Not the first time, Thor moved his head slightly enough to one side to avoid that and then whispered, “Its just me…its Thor.” The hazy dark revealed only the shift of raven hair against pale skin of his neck as the man turned his face slightly to consider this information. 

“You’re drunk,” spat Loki, his voice sleep tinged, heart flying from being startled. He continued to press back with his elbow, then used a foot to try to shove Thor back out of his furry bed. 

The elder Prince grabbed hold of the offending arm, held it in his muscular grip. Even though Loki was perfectly strong on his own, the secure grip stilled him, caused a soft gasp to slip his thin lips. Uncertainty fluttered through his sharp mind as the blond slowly guided his hand down against the furs. Thor’s body shifted, leaning and pressing against Loki’s back, guiding the pale one to lay on his front. 

Panic also flitted through Loki’s mind as he felt a firm hand stroking along his back, then his shoulder, holding him down and in place. “Thor…” No answer. He clamped his thighs together and writhed his back, tugging at his hand to free himself. “Thor.” With more insistence. “It’s me.”

The silence of words continued, but not of sound. Thor breathed hard, overcome with an arousal that he was still trying to process, but the mead-addled mind was slow to work it out. In the meantime, his cock gladly drove his actions, enough to grip Loki’s forearm harder to keep him from squirming away, while his other hand kept the pressure on his shoulder. The legs of a champion fought at the knees and as the naked, pale form beneath him undulated, he managed to slip one leg between them, then the other.

Feeling himself losing the fight, and highly conflicted about fighting it in the first place, Loki felt his own arousal grow hard, pinned against the fur, unable to be free. Every movement rubbed it against that soft surface. Surely, Thor could not have any idea what he was about to do. “Thor, it’s Loki….” He said his own name, certain to break the spell of lust and save them both.

Loki felt a moment’s pause from behind him, though the grip holding him never budged. He could already feel Thor’s cock, hard between his legs. The weight from his brother began to relax and for a moment, he thought it had worked, brought Thor to his senses. The hand moved from his shoulder, departed his body entirely. But then he felt the rubbing of that cock against his ass, back and forth in a controlled motion across his entrance. A flush blossomed across his skin and he started to protest again in greater earnest when Thor suddenly claimed him. 

The thrust shocked him into silence, a little dive into the pale body, not close to all the way. A shiver of a moan came from Thor and his hand moved from his cock now that he had found his purchase and went to Loki’s hip. Softly, breathing hard, he whispered, “I know.” He withdrew a little, then rocked into Loki, more gently, nudging his length deeper, letting the wet tip help him widen the other man. Then, again, a sharper plunge, so eager to find himself completely sheathed inside him. 

Loki shuddered and said nothing. Green eyes widely looked at little besides shadow and his parted lips expressed only the hitched sound of his own breath and the tormenting pain-pleasure that Thor dealt with his thrusts. Still pinned against the bedding, which hid his cock, the Prince couldn’t even find the room to pleasure himself. Thor thrust again; this time deep enough to coerce a choked moan from him. 

The moan set him loose. Thor heard that voice, so familiar, but twisted into a sexual need, and it provoked him further. He could not have enough. He could not be deep enough. What desire his mind usually protected him from, it did no longer, revealing a daring lust. A few more pistons and he could feel Loki change. The tension faded; his struggling motions shifted to those of matching need. No longer was Thor in this alone. 

Loki shifted his thighs, raised his rear a little, seeking some relief for his pinned length and he felt Thor give way. No longer trapped against the fur, he felt Thor’s strong hands help him to his knees, and Loki drew up to his elbows. Thor still held his hips snug against him, unwilling to let him go for an instant. At this angle, Thor’s hips could not be slowed. After one relief came a torrent of hard thrusts, faster and faster, smacking his balls against Loki’s ass until the fairer brother let out punctuated ‘ahs’ to each one and pushed back against him. 

“Thor?” Loki asked and warned at the same time. He squinted his eyes shut, the thrill running through every vein as he neared his own release, frightened and excited by it at the same time. The blond slowed, and Loki thought he may not get his release. “Tho-“

He got out the first part of the name before Thor plunged into him with hard, greedy thrusts. Slow and utterly possessive, Loki could feel the unspoken and repressed jealousy for every lover that the younger had ever taken.   
Silent as he had been, Thor’s own moans and grunts grew louder and he gritted his teeth as he lavished the pale body with powerful strokes. “Loki…now…for me…” His brother’s body felt amazing around him, soft, but strong. 

Loki took the words as permission to cum and he let out a shuddery cry. His body tensed and he spilled ropes of white onto the fur that had tortured him moments before. 

“Ah…ah…/Thor/,” Loki whimpered, praising and accusing in the same silvertongued word. That voice and the tension suddenly around him, tossed Thor over the edge. A few last strokes and he came into Loki warmly. Even that was not enough though. How many centuries had he been burying this desire? Slowly, decadently, he continued to piston in and out, riding the waves of pleasure until they exhausted themselves entirely. 

Then, breathing slow, Thor pulled himself free and collapsed beside Loki, blond hair resting on his shoulders. In his own silence, he hoped Loki would do the same. The last thing either of them wanted to do was talk about it.   
Thoroughly fucked, Loki finally turned his head to be able to see the man. A solid look up and down and then he whispered once an affectionate insult before turning back to his side to go back to sleep.

“Idiot.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to everyone who has read this!


End file.
